


Goodbye, April Lady

by kurth_naga



Category: Queen (Band), Smile (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, and i have a feeling theres a reason for that, enjoy maybe????, im pretty sure nobodys ever written a fic of this kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurth_naga/pseuds/kurth_naga
Summary: You've taken the chance of a lifetime, to leave New York for a while to study at Imperial College London in England - four months is all it takes. Four months is all it will have to take.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have wasted my life. this is a damn dumpster fire. anyway this is probably the first fic of its kind so uh. i dont know why i did this but i did and yall are just gonna have to deal with it. enjoy if you can idgaf (this will be multi chapter)

**15th January 1969**

"Please come out with me? You said you would." Jane, one of the few friends you'd managed to make during your short time in England thus far, had been begging you and your Italian roommate, Lucia, to come out to one of the student bars for the past half an hour. "Look, we're both super tired, we've been studying all day, and--" Lucia said, fiddling with her long dark hair, before Jane swiftly cut her off.  
"This will be the last time this week, I promise. There's a new band playing and everyone says they're really good." This seemed to be a regular occurrence for Jane - another band, another selection of boys for Jane to choose to go home with. It was clear she wasn't going to stop soon.

"Oh, alright then. Last time." You said, grabbing your bag and slinging your leather jacket over your back. Lucia looked somewhat betrayed, but you chose to ignore it.

This would be the third time this week the three of you had decided to make your way down to the bar on the ground floor of one of the buildings of Imperial College London, and you were reluctant to admit that you'd much rather stay in your pyjamas than spend another second getting hounded by sexually frustrated British boys every time you tried to get a drink. You'd only been here for a month so far, experiencing something that seemed to differ so much from what you knew back home in New York, and yet wasn't much different at all. With just over three months left, it felt like you had only just managed to settle into studying in a different country. You'd initially been sceptical of the idea of spending a term in England as part of your degree, but with all the culture on offer here, there was no way you could bring yourself to turn it down.

The smell of smoke and beer wafted around the dark student bar, stage lights flickering through the mass of people milling around on the floor and at the tables. "Come on, there's a booth free over there." Jane grabbed yours and Lucia's arms and yanked you over towards an even darker corner, and you shuffled around on the warm seats and finally released yourself from the tight leather jacket. This was almost a too-familiar scene by this point. Whoever the band was, they were late. The posters smattered around the drink-stained walls had a single phrase stamped on them in huge, offensive letters - " _DON'T FORGET TO SMILE_." A suggestion, or an imperative? Either way, it bothered you. Those same words were smothered all over a white drumkit too, with an enormous pair of lips and teeth emblazoned on the bass drum.

Five minutes later, and Jane had finally brought over three pina coladas and her first victim of the night - a short, scruffy-looking boy with dark hair and a slightly terrified expression on his face, clutching a glass tankard of lager. "Get 'em down, girls, you're gonna need it. This is Andrew, by the way."  
Andrew gave you and Lucia a nervous wave as you took the first sip from your cocktail, noticing it was mixed extremely badly. "What do you study, Andrew?" Lucia asked in her heavy accent, which she often liked to use to her advantage - she insisted that something about an accent hooked boys, but you'd never believed her. Your thick American one only seemed to turn them away, intimidated.  
"Mathematics, bit of statistics on the side and..." His voice seemed to trail away into the distance as the band finally emerged from the side room and took to the stage. Jane and Lucia instantly forgot Andrew's presence as they carefully watched the drummer confidently move out to the centre. You were dragged out of your seat almost as quickly as you had been pushed into it, and you soon found yourselves at the front of the crowd, mostly made up of squealing girls. By the time you managed to look back over at your booth, Andrew was gone, and you weren't surprised.

The drummer took his seat and threw a few cheeky winks out towards a group of slightly younger girls over to your left, and Jane practically screamed into your ear. "That's Roger Taylor! Oh my God, isn't he gorgeous?!" You instantly knew the real reason why she had wanted to come out tonight. You didn't seem to think there was anything particularly special about another blonde pretty boy, _but each to her own_ , you thought. The second band member to come out was extremely tall and skinny and carrying a somewhat odd-looking red guitar, and had a shock of dark curly hair that he was clearly in the process of trying to grow - but hadn't made much progress past what was basically a sort of afro. He stood more off to the side and seemed to mind his own business, ignored by the girls in favour of Roger. Jane nudged your arm. "That's Brian May, everyone says he's the most incredible guitar player." She seemed insistent that there was something special about this band, but until those first few notes rang out, there was no way you could pass any kind of judgment. The bassist was last to come on, and amongst the rather odd setup of a microphone in front of _him_ rather than the guitarist as you'd suspected, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Another nudge from Jane. She was obviously watching the cogs of your brain turn. "Tim Staffell, he sings and plays bass... kinda weird, right?"  
"Yeah, kinda weird." Was all you could manage to say to her as you found yourself being shuffled around by girls pushing their way to the front in a futile attempt to get at Roger.  
Tim was considerably shorter than Brian, but unlike his tall companion, his hair was decidedly longer and kept falling in front of his face and around his scarf. Why the hell he was wearing a scarf in what was probably the warmest sixty square feet in London at this exact moment was beyond you.

"Good evenin' you lot, we're Smile... this is Brian, our guitarist..." A thick Cockney voice gave way to a few subdued cheers from the boys in the room as Brian waved and took a few tuning strums of his guitar, fiddling with the amp at the side of the stage. "And that's Roger, our drummer." As expected, the loudest shrieks echoed around the tiny space from the girls as Roger made a few obscene gestures and Brian threw a piercing look his way. "Alright, are you ready Imperial College?!" The room erupted with noise as the music finally started, and you let yourself be swept up in its ferocity.

There was definitely _something_ about this band - Roger obviously didn't just talk the talk, he walked the walk, and his skill on the drumkit couldn't be denied. Brian was even more amazing than you had expected from Jane's brief words, his fingers dancing around the fretboard with the most nimble touch and you didn't think such a complex sound could emanate from such an instrument. Tim, obviously the frontman, had a unique but pleasant voice, and being able to play the bass at the same time was clearly no mean feat. Plus, the music was damn good. You danced as much as your body allowed you to with Jane and Lucia, plus the odd other random girl or boy who got too close to comfort on occasion, before you had to take a quick break and sit down during what you thought was a slower number to take another drink of one cocktail after another. And then the band surprised you again, as the slow ballad instantly transformed into a heavy rock number. The lights were starting to become hazy, and you were pretty sure you were downing drinks at a faster rate than you'd expected to, but you were having too much fun to consider stopping.

About an hour later, and Smile had finished their set and gone back into the side room, and Roger was of course followed closely behind by a gaggle of girls as Brian and Tim seemed to go entirely unnoticed. You and Lucia finished off the last dregs of a tequila sunrise, and suddenly noticed Jane was gone. "Oh, shit... where's Jane?" Lucia breathed. You both frantically searched round the room, before you finally saw a flash of dark auburn hair vanish through the doors of the side room. "Don't worry, I know _exactly_ where she is." You said, picking up her bag and coat along with yours. You pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the drunken jeers of a group of men in a nearby booth.  
As expected, Jane was amongst the girls crowding around Roger in the back room, and you could just about make out Roger's face grinning as he put his arms around two of the girls. You noticed Brian busy packing his guitar away as quickly as humanly possible, flanked by a comparatively very small girl with long mouse-brown hair parted down the middle, grabbing at his velvet sleeve. Tim was by himself in another corner, being helped to pack up his bass and microphone by one of the bar staff members. You and Lucia looked decidedly lost in the commotion. Lucia strode over to Jane and took hold of her arm forcefully. "Jane, really? You really want to do this?"  
"Well, I've got to try, haven't I?" Jane said quietly, before turning her attentions back to Roger and trying to push her way past the other girls to get to him. You wondered what on Earth she expected was going to happen.

"You alright?" A male voice said, and you instantly recognised the voice as belonging to Tim. Already finished with his instruments, he came over to you, clearly noticing the concerned look on your face that you'd tried not to make too obvious. "Yeah... yeah, just waiting for a friend." Lucia had already vanished back into the bar.  
"You're gonna be waitin' a while, I'll tell you that now. This happens every time." He gestured over to Roger and shook his head, half in disapproval and half to get his hair out of his eyes. You just laughed and put Jane's bag and coat on a nearby chair, hoping she'd notice them there before someone else did.

"Tim? We're heading off. Chrissie's got an early one tomorrow." Brian came over, the timid girl still hanging onto his arm.  
"Alright, that's fair. Oh, this is, uh... what did you say your name was?" Tim said, gesturing towards you.  
"Er, I didn't. [Y/N]." Brian and Chrissie shook your hand, palms sweating in the warm room.  
"Pleasure's all ours. Sorry we can't stay, hopefully see you another time though, [Y/N]." Brian said, reinforcing his hold on the guitar slung over his back and running his free hand through his curly hair. "Yeah, hopefully."

You watched as the two of them headed out the fire exit, a brief gust of cold wind mercifully hitting your face. "[Y/N]? I'm Tim." Tim outstretched his hand; another sweaty handshake. "Drink?" He pointed his thumb towards the door leading to the bar. Well, at least he got straight to the point, unlike most of the men you ran into in the student pubs, who always had something to say for themselves. You couldn't say that Tim was particularly attractive compared to the vast majority of boys you'd been out with on awkward dates with, but there was something incredibly genuine about him that you appreciated. His mind wasn't clouded with alcohol like everyone else at least, and you didn't expect there would be any competition for him, unlike Roger. You weren't sure what Lucia would say if she saw you with another band member, like Jane - but her judgments didn't rule you.

"Yeah, sure."

As the two of you made your way back through the crowd towards the bar, you were met with yet more catcalling and shouted remarks from the men amongst you. Tim received a few congratulatory pats on the back; reassurances from the bar's patrons that they'd loved the music and wanted more.

"What's your poison?" Tim asked, the crowd parting before him to allow him to lean on the bar top at the front of the queue with you following behind. "Oh, er... Harvey Wallbanger." Whatever came to mind first was good enough, you decided. "So you're a cocktail drinker? Two Harvey Wallbangers." The bartender got to work instantly - Tim was clearly well-acquainted with the privileges of being the live band of the night. "I take it from your accent you're not from round here." He said as the drinks hit the rubber bar mat and he passed a five-pound note to the bartender. You took your first drink a little too deeply. "How long did it take you to work that one out?" You said, suddenly oddly concerned you were coming off a bit too aggressive and wishing you could rephrase. "Oh, I noticed straightaway. Whereabouts in America you from, then?" He hadn't seemed to care, anyway.  
"New York. I'm only here for a few months, I was given a chance to study at Imperial for a while as part of my degree."  
Tim took a long drink and grinned. "Imperial, huh? What you studying?"  
"Fine Art. You?"  
"Oh, I'm not smart enough for Imperial, unlike Brian and Roger... and you. I'm at Ealing College, graphic design." At least there was some common ground established - maybe the conversation wouldn't fall flat like it usually did. You might have made some kind of comment about the fact an airhead pretty boy like Roger was intelligent enough for Imperial, but all thoughts of everyone else in the room had gone from your mind almost completely. You were pretty sure all thoughts of you had gone from your girlfriends' minds too, as Lucia hadn't even bothered to come looking for you and Jane was probably already on her way back to Roger's place. "Oh, that's cool... I gotta say though, I have no idea where that is." You admitted. Tim flicked his hair out of his face again and quickly finished his drink.  
"Ealing's a bit further out of here, bit of a way to travel but it's alright."

The conversation flowed easily - you soon learned about how Smile had formed, how Tim didn't really think they were going anywhere despite the good reception at the bars and clubs, and you told him of your life at home back in New York and about all the things you missed. The sounds of the bar were starting to drown out your talking, and Tim was clearly thinking the same thing, as he pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. "Want one?"  
"Yeah, alright."

Passing through the back room again, where the only items left were Tim's bass and microphone cases, you hoped that the reason Jane's bag and coat were gone was because she herself had found them. The wall of cold air hit you, and you pulled your leather jacket tighter around yourself. Tim offered you the pack of cigarettes, and you slid one out of the paper and reached for your lighter in your bag. "Here, I've got one." Tim had already found his, and you took it, noticing his calloused fingertips - a sign he'd been practising his craft as a musician for many years. "Thanks." You lit the cigarette and took your first deep drag, filling your lungs and feeling the familiar calming sensation.

"Listen, if you're trying to get me home or something, that might be good enough for the girls in there but I don't do that kinda thing." You exhaled and watched as the smoke encircled Tim's head as he flicked the ash from his own onto the cold ground. "That's fair enough, but maybe I just wanted to talk to you. Is that good enough?" He smirked, raising his eyebrows as the two of you leaned back against the wall.

"Yeah. That's good enough."

A brief silence existed between you.

"What are you thinking about?" Tim finally asked, finishing the last of his cigarette.

"Thinking about how I'm actually really tired and drunk and trying to hide it in front of you." If he wasn't going to mince words, neither were you.

"Good answer." The yellow lamp light flickered above you, and you found yourself almost leaning on him as the smoke filled you again.

"Why, what are you thinking about?" You asked, your voice quiet in the night air as you dropped your cigarette butt and crushed it beneath your heel.

"Thinking about how I definitely want to see you again." The softness of his voice matched yours, and you finally rested your head on his shoulder. There was a warmth here that felt different to anything else you'd felt before, and somehow you knew it wasn't just the alcohol talking.

"Good answer."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry lads, bit of a short one this time lmao, wasnt exactly sure how to draw this out really so this is all u get........ is anyone reading this or am i just Boo Boo The Fool

**2nd February 1969**

A few weeks had passed, and since Jane had somehow managed to make herself much more familiar to Roger, you'd found yourself steadily getting more familiar with Tim. Every time you'd been round to their student house in Kensington, sitting in on their rehearsals, the two of you had ended up on what had become a routine cigarette break sitting outside the back door. Jane was rather enjoying perching herself next to Roger on the faded sofa, keenly hanging onto his every word, while Brian and Chrissie sipped cups of tea and exchanged very quiet words across the other side of the room. Tim plucked at his bass guitar while you adjusted the amps and tried your best to be of some use to him. Whenever you went back to your own flat, you could tell that Lucia was getting less and less impressed with your escapades the later your nights out became, and she had given up on seeing Jane at all. And the more and more you found yourself wondering exactly what it was you expected from Tim. Had it not been for the odd time he offered you his scarf if you were shivering while outside, you considered that you might have been veering dangerously into friendship territory - and if you were brutally honest, that's not where you wanted to be. Something about it was confusing, and it most likely stemmed from the fact the other couples in the flat were so blatant about their affections for each other that you wondered if Tim was feeling the pressure to do something about it too. Maybe there was something in the way he was always the first to the door whenever you knocked, how he always seemed to seat himself next to you in the flat or when you were out at the park with everyone, how his ideas for songs always fell on your ears before anyone else heard them.

"So I was thinking..." Tim said, his cigarette smoke rising into the air as the sun set behind the horizon.  
"Oh, you were thinking, were you?" You teased, taking a breath from it as he passed it to you.  
"Oy, don't be cheeky. Yeah, I was thinking. You wanna go out sometime this week? I mean like... just me and you. The others won't be with us."  
You almost choked. You could hardly believe it - but rather than the strange butterflies you always got whenever you were asked out, the feeling welling up inside you was one of calmness and pure relief.  
"Yeah, yeah... I'd love to."  
"I mean it doesn't have to be like-- like a _date_ or anything, if you don't want it to be, it can be just mates hanging out or whatever." _God no. No, it's a damn date and you're going to deal with it, Tim Staffell._  
"No, I'd... I'd like it if it was a date." You found that your words were hitching in your throat more than you wanted. Tim's worried expression softened, and had it still not been decidedly early days, merely a few weeks since you'd met, you may have found yourself inching just that bit closer and found yourself doing something you really, _really_ wanted to do.

"Okay then, it's a date."

Just like you had done behind the student bar those few weeks ago standing in the cold night air, you leaned your head on his shoulder - except tonight, it would be quite some time before Brian found you both fast asleep against the back door under the stars.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dw this is a cute ass chapter i cried a lil bit but that was only because i realised i cant write for shit, so please dont expect much

**5th February 1969**

The kitchen phone rang just after 11am, and Jane practically bolted out of her bedroom as you came down the stairs, her hair matted and messy like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards and her vest askew. She'd clearly been drinking by herself the night before; the sunken eyes and stumbling gait gave her away clear as anything.

"Roger?! Roger, is that you?" Jane wailed down the phone, and you half-considered going back to bed until she saw you standing in the doorway. "Oh... she's here... it's for you." She offered you the phone in her shaking hand.

"Hello?"

"Hey, [Y/N]... hope you ain't forgotten about that date."  _Shit._  You were supposed to be meeting Tim down at Marble Arch in half an hour. It was a twenty minute walk away, and you were still in your pyjamas.  
"Yeah, n-no, we're still good. I might be a bit late though." Might as well be honest with him, and besides, it wasn't like the band's apartment was too far from the park anyway. Anybody else, you might have been considerably more apologetic, but something told you he'd understand.  
"That's fine, it won't take me long to get there. You know where the cafe kiosk is, right?" Good, something nice and simple like a coffee was easy enough to wrangle with on a date. And he had practically read your mind. At least the choice of what to do had been made for you, and any awkward and indecisive conversations between you had been bypassed. "Yeah, down by the waterfront near the boats."  
"That's the one. I can meet you at 12 if it's easier?"  
"No, no... I'll make it."

You instantly wished you hadn't said that. But it was always surprising how quickly you could make yourself look at least presentable if you tried. Lucia was still sleeping, and you quickly roused her, tapping her on the shoulder and knowing you'd rather get her opinion than disturb a clearly emotionally troubled Jane. "Lu... how do I look?"  
Her eyes fluttered open as she turned her head towards you on the pillow, brushing her hair from her face as she looked you up and down. You'd thrown on the nearest shirt you could find, blue with a spotted pattern; a brown skirt, and the leather jacket you never left home without. "You look great, but I want to sleep..." Lucia groaned, and rolled back over in bed.

You'd added another patch to the left sleeve of the jacket - Smile's logo, a patch that Jane had taken from Roger's stash the last time you were at their flat and given to you as a sort of bizarre apology gift or something, but you weren't quite sure what she was apologising for. Either way, it was an opportunity to show your own appreciation to the band for at least attempting to welcome you into their lives. Somehow you didn't expect Jane's stint with Roger to last very long, but she hadn't made much of an effort to get to know Tim or Brian, unlike you. At times you thought maybe Brian was a bit too much of an intellectual for you to be able to have a meaningful conversation, but he seemed to know a little bit about everything - and his soft-spokenness was a welcome addition to a rather odd selection of boys, and you'd become firm friends. Roger was easily the most emotional of the group, and he knew he would eventually always get his way, but he was fun to be around and told the most unbelievable stories - most of them about chasing people down the street, running after clothes his and Tim's friend Freddie had sold by accident at their stall in Kensington. Tim, on the other hand, was passionate about his music above all else - and you loved nothing more than listening to all the new songs he was writing, covers he was trying to play, and the way his eyes seemed to light up whenever you told him it sounded good. He always made a point to walk you to the door whenever you left the flat, holding the door open whilst you hoped he was silently wishing you were staying the night.

Fixing your hair in the mirror above the table at the bottom of the stairs one last time, you took a deep breath and had one final glance at the clock. Ten minutes.

Crossing over the road towards the park, a cold wind almost blew you sideways as you headed for the gates, ruining whatever you'd attempted to do with your hair and forcing you to pull your jacket around you tightly. You wished that today, of all the days you were both free and not working or having to be at university, could have had more pleasant weather - but instead you were resigned to grey skies. Unfortunately, you wouldn't have long to spend together - Trident Studios had the band booked in at 1 o'clock for a recording session, Smile's third that week, and apparently Brian had written something new he wanted the others to hear. Had it been anyone else, you might have been grateful that the date was short, and if it was going badly it would at least be mercifully over in good time with no issues - but such a thing wasn't even on your mind; only the disappointment that you couldn't spend the whole day with just the two of you together.

You thought you felt a few spots of rain fall on the top of your head as you entered the park and made your way along the tree-lined paths towards the river, praying the clouds overhead wouldn't suddenly decide to open and drench you before you even made it. Subconsciously realising you were probably very late by this point, your walking pace quickened as soon as you spotted a very familiar figure leaning on a tree by the cafe kiosk.

"How's it goin'?" Tim swept you up in a brief hug, cigarette still in his mouth and his words stifled. He removed it and exhaled as he let you go, and you wish he'd held on just a bit longer. "Yeah, good. Sorry I'm late. Were you waiting long?"  
"Nah, five minutes. Coffee?"

Tim had insisted you take a seat at one of the moss-covered picnic tables by the river while he took care of the drinks, and you fidgeted with a loose thread on your skirt, unsure what to do. You preoccupied yourself with looking out over the rolling green fields of the park, watching as a few boats filled with equally awkward-looking couples floated downstream amid the twig-like trees.

"Finally, took 'em bloody long enough." Tim shook his head, brushed his dark hair away from his face and set the tray on the table. He'd grabbed an enormous pile of packets of sugarcubes and plastic milk pots. "Why'd you get so many?" You asked, taking one of the paper cups of black coffee. "I dunno what you have in coffee, thought I'd better get a bunch to be on the safe side."  
"Tim, that's... seven each." You said, quickly counting the cubes and desperately trying to keep a conversation going. Some kind of awful nervous feeling was starting to well up in your stomach. "Alright, yeah, I went a bit overkill. Watch out, it's hot." He said as you took your first sip and instantly burnt your tongue on it. "Ow." You exclaimed, trying not to be embarrassed. He pushed his scarf to the side ( _again with the damn scarves_ , you thought), and drank from his own. And then he stuck his tongue out - "There, now it'th the thame." You laughed, dipping your head downwards and staring into the murky depths of the coffee at the reflection of your own eyes. When you looked back up, you saw that he was looking at you and smiling.

_Jane had asked you a question one day, as you were sitting in the kitchen at breakfast before your first lecture of the day - "Why Tim?" You'd wanted to reply with something along the lines of "Why Roger?", failing to see how she expected her relationship (if it could be called that) to last any longer than a few weeks, but you thought better of it. "Because he's just... nice."_   
_"I mean he's a bit short, and he's not really the prettiest knife in the drawer, is he?"_   
_"That's not the expression, it's 'sharpest knife in the drawer'. But... he's nice, and he actually wants to spend time with me. Shouldn't that be enough?"_   
_"I guess. But I know you could do better than him. Has he even kissed you yet?"_   
_"I swear to God, Jane. Can we stop talking about this?"_

"Can you do something for me?" Tim clasped his hands together over his coffee cup and furrowed his eyebrows. You were pretty sure you'd have jumped in the river if he told you to. "Yeah, what's up?" You took a drink of your own coffee and tried to warm your hands on the cup.  
"I've managed to get the band a gig... at the Royal Albert Hall." You could tell, for all his deference, that he was trying to hide how proud he was of himself - and Roger and Brian, of course. "Oh my gosh, Tim, that's amazing!" What reason did you have to hide your excitement? You knew how much Smile's success meant to him, and soon enough, his own wide grin matched yours - and you reached over to take hold of his his cold hands. That kind of closeness felt normal enough now that he didn't even flinch at your touch. "I know right? I couldn't believe it when I got the call. Rog and Bri don't know yet, I wanna surprise them."  
"Oh, that'll be one hell of a surprise. What do you need me to do, though?" A soft breeze rustled through the bare trees, and Tim used one hand to adjust his scarf but kept the other firmly planted in yours, and you were grateful he hadn't pulled away. "You do photography, right? They want some publicity photos, but we've gotta provide them ourselves, so I was wondering if you'd take the shots for us." His ability to remember tiny things from conversations that you'd only said in passing was a bit freaky sometimes, but it was a sure sign he was keen to hang onto your words. "Of course I will. I'd love to."  
"Awesome. Thank you so much." His other hand met yours again, and your eyes locked for a bit longer than usual before you turned your gaze to the river. A light squeeze on your fingertips sent a shockwave of nervous excitement through you. "Christ, your hands are cold," he said, "Here. Stick your palms together." You did as he suggested, and he started quickly rubbing the outside of your hands with his, generating some friction that quickly warmed them considerably. His tongue stuck out over his top lip, a quirk you'd realised meant he was concentrating hard. "Better?" He asked.  
"Much better."  
"You done with that coffee?"  
You took your final gulp from the cup, letting out an exaggerated sigh as you placed it back on the tray. "I'll take that as a yes." Tim said as he put his own empty mug on the tray and carried it back over to the kiosk, leaving it on the countertop as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

Glancing at your watch, you saw that your time was nearly up. Soon you'd both be back under the watchful, judgmental gaze of all the people who had ever been involved with the band, knowing that they were quietly wondering to themselves what the hell was going on between you two. You weren't one hundred percent sure yourself just yet. "You've gotta be at the studios in twenty, we'd better start making a move." You said as Tim pulled his box of cigarettes out, taking one from the pack and holding it between his lips as he lit it. He took his first breath from it and the smoke drifted away as he replied - "Yeah, I reckon we've got time to take the long way round through the park, though." He put his free hand in his jacket pocket and stretched his elbow out, gesturing with his head, and you took his arm in yours. Visions of ladies in enormous Victorian dresses being escorted by handsome suitors on sunny days flashed through your mind for a brief second, but you quickly decided that hanging onto Tim's arm while his cigarette smoke curled around your head and the cold wind blew through the park was much better than all that fantasy nonsense. This was real. The only thing left to do was understand what was stopping you from finally closing the distance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally......... now we're getting somewhere

**23rd February 1969**

Amongst your studies, you'd managed to fit in some considerable time with Tim - however, the past few weeks had seen you hanging out with Roger and Brian a lot more too, since their rehearsals for the Albert Hall gig had been well underway for the past fortnight. Jane had since been spurned by Roger for another younger, prettier girl who wore even shorter skirts, and she had been trying to stay as far away from the band as humanly possible, much to your frustration. The looks she gave you whenever you told her and Lucia you were going over to their flat could have pierced through iron. However, you weren't about to let it stop you from seeing Tim. The recording sessions often stretched out over long and arduous hours into the night, and as the day got closer and closer, tensions were starting to mount and you could tell Tim was getting frustrated. Brian's constant rewriting of any new material he put forward, on top of Roger's absences from rehearsals and tendencies to bring a new girl along with him almost every single day, meant he hadn't slept much and the bags under his eyes were becoming more pronounced by the minute. He told you, time and time again, that he wouldn't mind if you wanted to go home - but time was marching steadily onwards to the day you'd have to leave London, and you knew that he was thinking the same thing and secretly wanted you to stay. You could tell by the dejectedness in his voice whenever he suggested that you go home, but you knew it was out of concern for your sleep hours.

Once, you'd fallen asleep on the studio couch at the back of the room while Brian was recording his last solo of the day for the newest track, _'Blag'_ , with Roger seated on the other side of the room with his latest girlfriend on his knee (you could never remember their names), while Tim sipped on his sixth or seventh cup of coffee. And you'd woken up a few hours later with Tim's jacket on top of you like a blanket.

Photoshoot day had come around quicker than you expected - with four days until the concert, Brian had been fretting that there was simply no time to have any photos done at all. But when the four of you stood outside the doors of the Royal Albert Hall, you truly understood the gravity of the situation. Tim had had what you thought was an interesting idea, and you'd helped him pull it off last night just before you'd finally headed home at a modest time of 2 o'clock in the morning. Paper smiles, the band's logo, printed carefully onto stiff paper and held up to their mouths like the smiles were their own - an extra dimension to the photographs.

You pulled your camera and film rolls from your bag, whilst the three boys stood almost dumbstruck on the steps, looking up at the monument in front of the towering circular building. "Alright, shall we do this then?" You said, trying to pull them back to Earth.  
"Yeah, we'd better be quick though, it's fucking freezing." Roger said, wrapping his extravagant fur coat around himself whilst you realised it suited his diva tendencies perfectly. "They only wanted four shots. I say we go for a couple of serious ones, and some candids." Tim said, walking back over to you at the bottom of the steps. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper logos, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Oy, what are those?" Roger called.  
"Logos. Don't question it." Brian said as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He'd come into Tim's room last night looking for a shaving razor and had seen you printing them, and you had later overheard him admitting to Chrissie that he half-expected to see something a lot more embarrassing happening when he'd gone barging in by accident, forgetting you were still there. "Just hold them up to your mouths, alright? Trust me, the photos will look proper good. Won't they, [Y/N]?" Tim called back to you. Roger gave the piece of paper the most quizzical look as Tim handed them out to his bandmates, looking unbelievably pleased with himself.

Six photographs and three tired boys later, you had more than enough than what the gig organisers wanted. Brian and Roger were quick to leave once they realised their alloted studio shift at Trident was drawing near, and you could hear Brian blaming Roger for insisting on taking solo shots of himself and making them all late, infringing on precious recording time. You watched as the two of them headed down the steps, leaving you and Tim alone in front of the monument.

"Thanks, [Y/N]." Tim said, gently placing his hand on your elbow as you closed your bag.  
Time seemed to stop when he leaned over and planted a kiss on your cheek.  
"...Sorry." He sheepishly placed the paper logo back over his mouth.  
"What are you sorry for?"  
"Cos I didn't ask if I could do that." Tim cocked his head to the side, and the paper smile followed in his fingertips.

You didn't care who was watching as you gently pushed his arm down, the paper leaving with it, and pressed a kiss to his lips. You could have sworn at that moment that nothing else in the world existed except for the both of you, all else be damned.

"I didn't ask to do that either, so I guess we're even." You replied, a light smirk crossing your face when you realised what you had done.

There was a short, shocked silence, before you both practically burst into laughter, and Tim's arms wrapped around you as you buried your head in his chest. Eventually, his hand gently lifted your head back and he kissed you much more purposefully. Your gloved hands met his cheeks, and you could feel him smiling against your mouth.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for." He said, your foreheads touching as his arms folded around your waist.  
"Would I be right in saying it's since we met at that bar?"  
"...Yeah, that sounds about right." Another soft kiss and a quiet laugh. You had waited far too long for this moment, wrestling with the idea that the 'time wasn't right yet', the possibility he didn't even feel the same and was just doing the things he did out of kindness - and now every question you had ever had was answered.


End file.
